


Little

by nursehelena



Series: Red, Yellow, Green [4]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1641947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nursehelena/pseuds/nursehelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles loves all his boys, but one more than the others needs a Daddy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrutalWarElf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrutalWarElf/gifts).



> BrutalWarElf wanted some Toki/Charles hurt/comfort, so here's my prompt fill. ^^

Charles was never much one for surprises; unexpected turns of events threatened massive losses of life or money in the office, and screw-ups when he dominated in his private life could be just as damaging to a submissive's psyche. All that changed for Toki. A surprise laid first and foremost in the very fact anything might spark between them. Charles merely tied up for the day one humdrum Tuesday evening when a timid knock came at his office door. It could only be the Norwegian—none of the others hesitated toward barging in. Sure enough, when invited, big, pale blue eyes stated inquiry in lieu of the younger man's silence.

“Evening, Toki. Ah, what can I do for you?”

“I was just wonderings if you gonna be here for a bits. I. . .” Toki shrugged, glancing down at the book he clutched to his chest and the box of crayons he carried. “Skwisgaar is beings a dick abouts me wanting to colour whales insteads of sharks, when only last week he tells me I's a dildo for colourings sharks instead of whales. . .”

“I have a few other things to attend to, before leaving.” Charles indicated the seat opposite his desk. “Feel free.”

Neither spoke; other than the quiet slide of Toki's crayons, rustling paper, and the odd keyboard clack, shadows inched across Charles' desk. Even when he finished his day's necessities, he stayed put. Toki hadn't appeared so peaceful in a long while, and Charles couldn't consciously end his escape from the band or other such pressures. Solitaire, banal a game as ever, preoccupied him until finally the Norwegian sat up straight with a triumphant smile, ripped the page out of his colouring book, and turned it for display. “Looks at what I did. See, the whale hads his mouth open so I addeds a couple scuba divers for his lunch.”

“Very good, Toki.”

The younger man studied him with a squinted eye and slightly turned head. “Woulds you want to keep it, maybes? You could hangs it up—um. . .”

“I'll find a place,” Charles stated as the Norwegian scanned about his office. “Why don't you sign it?”

“Goods idea! If I don'ts, I bet Skwisgaar woulds come in here and takes all the credit.” Toki stuck his tongue out for one last burst of concentration. “I thinks I spell your name wrong, though.”

Charles inspected it. “You're missing the E.”

“Oh. Where does it go?” Toki scratched his head.

“It's fine. The drawing is what matters.”

What Charles presumed as a one-time occurrence turned into three by the end of the week. He didn't ask and Toki didn't say much, but the manager could tell that all five of Dethklok's members had difficulty adjusting to living together again. The other four had burst into his office at one point or another to discuss their youngest member:

“He ams acting again likes when we forst buy him!” Skwisgaar complained, arms tersely crossed. “Maybes even like _before_ dat. He amn'ts talkings to me about if he ams okay and he cry at de drops of a hat. Cans you get him to be inspected by de vet?”

Murderface came next: “I heard about thisch schort of thing in college: it'sch called regresschion. He can't handle the reschponschibilitiesch of a grown-up, scho he'sch juscht going to act like a little kid, inschtead. He doeschn't even realizche he'sch doing it, probably. You schould hand him over to Twinkletitsch.”

Then Nathan: “Shit's fucked, I dunno. It's not even like he's angry, so I have no idea what to do with the little goofball.”

And finally Pickles: “Dood, say the werd 'n' I'll give'm the right pills to fix it. He jest needs a vacation, maybe a _bake_ cation. Heh, geddit?

“Yeeuh, I _am_ high as a kite. Why?”

For the most part, Charles disregarded their various jeremiad. Toki indeed visited with Twinkletits, thus earning a weekly slot. When his first one came about, the manager paid a personal visit to the Norwegian's room to make sure he remembered.

The young man's eyes brightened when he answered the door. “Hi, Charles! Whats you doing in these neighbourhoods?”

“I, ah, came to remind you about going to see Twinkletits this afternoon.”

“Oh noes, was that today?” Toki opened the door more to display the haphazard sorting of his things. “I was tryings to get my room cleaned. I guess is good you comes, huh?”

Charles and Twinkletits shared a nod of acknowledgement when Toki changed hands, then came together again a couple hours later to discuss the session. As only the first of many, Twinkletits built the bare bones of Toki's latest tribulations, of which he relayed to the manager.

“Little Toki said he likes to colour in here.”

“Yes, he seems to.”

“Are these his drawings?” Twinkletits stood to inspect them, metal arms clasped behind his back. “There's quite a difference between this and what he did with me, today.”

“Oh?”

“He rarely strays outside the lines, and he uses such bright colours, in these. He never touched anything beside blue and black today, and if not for the lines I wouldn't have even been able to tell what he was drawing.”

Charles more than anyone else understood his boys. Toki always needed a father figure in his life; nothing like his post-rescue behaviour emphasized that greater. Thus, the Norwegian's sojourns slanted into different light and surprised his manager. Charles vowed never to allow work and play to mingle, but Toki proved the exception. Hesitant to discuss such matter with a member of Dethklok—not to mention someone currently stuck between seven and ten years old, cognitively—Charles set the boundaries on his lonesome and opened his office and cell phone to the younger man whenever he so desired.

Tonight, the latter garnered attention. Charles jolted from a dead sleep, then knocked his phone off the bedside in attempt to cease the scratchy, trebly ringtone. “Hello?”

“Dids I wake you up?”

The manager exhaled heavily through his nose, heart pounding as his body adjusted to consciousness. “Is everything all right?”

“I hads a nightmare.”

“Are you in your room?”

“Ja.”

“I'll be there shortly.”

Charles pulled on his glasses and a robe, then smoothed his hair down before departing. Only about halfway through his mechanical journey of Mordhaus' hallways did he actually begin to wake up. However broadly he yawned, however heavy his eyes, he regretted nothing as he knocked at Toki's door after a stop by the kitchens. “It's me, Toki.”

“You can come ins.”

Toki transformed before Charles' eyes whenever he slipped into his little. Muscles, facial hair, and general size became invisible, replaced by a small form curled up beneath the soft blue blanket. Eyes peered over it's edge, wide and timid. Curiosity overcame the young boy in regards to the plate Charles carried.

“Whats is that?”

“Ah, some of your favourite cookies. Why don't you sit up, so that you don't get crumbs everywhere?” Charles resumed seat when Toki's legs cleared the end of the bed. In reference to his nightmare, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The Norwegian shook his head. “No thanks you. Nots yet. Thanks you for the cookies, though.”

“And milk.” Charles set the glass on the bedside. “I'll stay as long as you like me to.”

“Okay.” Understandably, Toki's normally bubbly demeanour was trumped by anxiety. He nibbled at his cookies, gaze darting everywhere. “Charles?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats is happening to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't feel good.” The Norwegian chewed his lower lip. “Like something's missing, in my head. Everyone tells me I gots to stop being a big baby—and I wants to!—but something wents wrong when I comes home. Is like I gots no mind for anything, anymore.”

“You shouldn't listen to the other boys. You've gone through something very traumatic, and you're dealing with it in your own way.”

“It makes me embarrassed,” Toki divulged in a whisper. “But I can'ts help it. Can you tells me how to stop?”

“Do you _want_ to stop?”

“Not really, if I's honest. Is nice, sometimes. I likes colouring in your office.”

“You should do only what you need to. If you're ready to stop, then Twinkletits and I will help you do that.”

“Would I have to quit visitings you?”

“You're always welcome, no matter what.”

Finally, the younger man smiled. When finished his cookies and milk, he set the dishes aside and moved closer for a hug. Charles pat him amiably on the back, eliciting a sigh. “Charles, can I tells you something?”

“Of course.”

“I wish you was my dad. You's so much nicer.” Toki rested his head on the manager's shoulder. “I dreameds that I was back in Norway. I nevers want to go back to that place, if I don'ts have to.”

“You're safe here, and you're not going anywhere that you don't want.”

“Thanks you, more than I coulds ever say.”

Charles stayed by request, waiting for the Norwegian's breath to even out. He never had children, but this had to be what it felt like. It broke his heart to see Toki struggle against himself so valiantly, torn between the abused boy stuck in the billowing snows of his homeland, and the world's most successful entertainment act. How could anyone, between his blood family and those he called brothers, ever target Toki for anything less than pleasant? He'd gone through so much, craved love and affection, and had so much to give in kind.

A smile crossed the younger man's thin lips as Charles pushed some stray hair off his forehead. “ _Godnatt_.” 


End file.
